Secrets of the Royal Family
by Alabaster86
Summary: A series of drabbles and/or short stories dealing with any and all members of the Fire Nation royal family, both past and present.  Ratings and genres will vary.
1. Chapter 1

**Secrets of the Royal Family**

_**Irreplaceable**_

Sozin never married. There were plenty of pretty women available to him, women who would make the perfect wife for a Fire Lord, quiet, dutiful, devoted all of them, ready and willing to bear his children and then retreat into the background where they belonged. But none of them caught his fancy.

He wanted someone like Ta Min, Roku's wife. His best friend, the boy he grew up with and the boy, who just happened to be the Avatar, had been in love with her since he was a child. And she waited for him through all those years of Avatar training, years away in other nations learning to master all the elements. Neither ever looked at anyone else. They simply knew the wedding would happen when the time and circumstances were both right.

They were both of noble birth, but somehow different from everyone else of that class. They were freer, looser and much more fun. Sozin loved them both, so much so that his feelings often shocked him. He would gladly have allowed them to live alongside him in the Fire Nation palace. He would love their children as his own. They would be a part of his family.

But circumstances changed. Sozin changed and an ideological rift appeared. Their nation was at its apex and he wanted to share its glory with the world, even if he needed to force the glory upon everyone. Roku didn't agree and the three of them drifted apart, the Avatar and his wife on their little island and him in the palace, growing angrier and lonelier by the day.

The need to produce an heir was an annoyance, one his council members never let him forget. So he lay with woman after woman, servants, whores, even a few more adventurous nobles. He imagined them all with Ta Min's sweet face but that didn't make the experience any less sordid for him. Finally, a pregnancy occurred. The Royal Physician couldn't wait to give him the news that the cook's assistant, a plain girl of average intelligence and not a firebender, carried his child.

Sozin never looked at her after that. He wasn't even sure of her name. She gave birth and the child was ripped away from her, handed over to a wet nurse, then a nanny. The little boy was six years old and already producing powerful flames before Sozin took any notice of him. His name was Azulon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Secrets of the Royal Family**

_**No Love, Just Duty**_

Sozin's own father, a man named Keizo, was good humored and quite robust for his advanced age. He had never been cruel to his son, or his daughter, Sozin's younger sister. Lack of cruelty aside, his interest in the children was minimal at best. Child rearing was always left to the mother, especially during the younger years. Being kept appraised of their progress and giving an occasional pat on the head or encouraging word was more than enough.

In the end, children were a product in the royal family; something that it was necessary to make, whether you actually wanted them or not. Of course, with the position of privilege came access to nannies and tutors, people hired to do the work that the royal parents didn't want to dirty their hands with.

While the offspring were only products, it always amazed Sozin to hear his father boasting to noble friends or council members about how his firebending was coming along or how his sister's beauty was unrivaled. He took credit but put in no effort. That must be what fatherhood was all about, at least in noble circles.

There were always exceptions, though. Roku came from a loving, warm, affectionate home and so did Ta Min. When either mentioned their parents, a twinge of envy would hit Sozin. What would it be like to have a father who played with you, read to you, asked how your day was? What would it be like? Maybe it didn't matter, though. He was the prince, after all, and that was better than any amount of affection or play time. Still….

* * *

Out of curiosity one day and with fear in his heart, twelve year old Sozin crept through the palace, taking disused stairs and little used corridors, until he reached the hallway that held his father's office. The door, a thick, ornately carved one made of the finest wood in all the Fire Nation rain forests, was shut tight. He moved closer, pressing an ear against it and listening hard. Young Sozin could hear nothing. His father must be alone.

The boy took a huge gulp of air and then knocked.

"Who is it?" Keizo asked gruffly.

Sozin gulped again. "It's me father, your son, Sozin." A sudden jolt of sadness struck him hard. How strange that he felt the need to introduce himself, as if his own father wouldn't recognize his voice. The terrible truth was that Keizo probably wouldn't.

Inside the office, the Fire Lord frowned. "What does he want?" he muttered under his breath. He shuffled some documents and closed up his writing kit, trying to gain some time before he needed to reply. Or did he need to reply at all? Yes, better to nip Sozin's curiosity or rebelliousness or _whatever _this was immediately, rather than allowing it to gain purchase.

"You may come in." Keizo's voice was deep and melodious. The formal words rolling off his tongue sounded almost like music.

Sozin opened the door, stepped over the threshold and immediately dropped to his knees. The boy lowered his head until it touched the cold stone floor. He waited then for the words that would release him.

"You may stand, son." Strange word to say out loud; he hardly ever used it. This boy, this twelve year old, he was almost certain that Sozin was twelve, was a part of him, something made from his body, someone to continue the royal blood line. He was nothing more, though. Keizo felt no affection, no worry, no wonder and no joy. The boy simply was.

Sozin stood and looked shyly at his father. He licked his lips, dry and cracked feeling suddenly but resisted the urge to play with his topknot, so carefully fixed by one of his personal attendants a few hours earlier.

"I'm busy; speak your piece." Keizo fiddled with his moustache, completely grey like his hair, and stared at Sozin with intelligent amber eyes.

"I, um, I, well….."

"If you're going to lead this nation one day, you had better learn to express yourself more adequately than that! I'll give you one more opportunity."

For the life of him, Sozin could not recall why he had come. He felt foolish and embarrassed and wanted nothing more than to retreat to the comfort of his _own _rooms. He stammered out an apology and ran.

Keizo looked perplexed for a moment and wondered if perhaps he had waited too long to have children. He hoped that Sozin was right in the head, and would make a sound leader. He grinned then. What did it matter to him? He would be dead anyway.

Safe in his rooms, Sozin promised himself that he would never have children. Duty would force him to break that promise to himself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Secrets of the Royal Family**

_**Alone**_

It was her wedding day and Ilah was suitably nervous. Actually, she was terrified, despite the fact that marrying a noble was what her parents had groomed her for from the time she could walk and talk. There was nothing else, really, nothing else for a woman of noble lineage to do. She _should _consider herself fortunate. Ilah was to marry Fire Lord Azulon, thirty five years old, handsome, fierce and in his prime. She was eighteen, pretty in a pedestrian sort of way, shorter than she liked and slightly plump.

Her parents were thrilled naturally. That was one daughter out of the house and successfully wed. Their family was a wealthy one, old, and had been part of the noble class for as many generations as anyone could remember. Azulon had sought them out, knowing about the three young sisters that were part of the family.

Ilah recalled the day that the Fire Lord had visited.

* * *

The whole house had been in an excited uproar, Mother making sure everything looked just right and Father rehearsing what he would say to the most powerful and important man in their nation. As it turned out, panic wasn't necessary. Azulon simply looked at all three daughters, examining them as if they were ostrich horses at an auction, pacing back and forth in front of the little row they made, then pointed to Ilah, the middle one.

"I'll take her." He looked at Ilah then with piercing gold eyes, boring, it seemed, straight through to her soul. "You're willing? I don't want some sad, homesick little girl warming my bed. You'll have two months to get used to the idea. If you agree and then back out, your family will be ruined. Do you understand that?"

"Y, yes, my lord, I understand and I accept your proposal." What else could she do? Refusal was out of the question. Her parents would cast her out.

The young woman bowed deeply, her head almost touching the floor. Azulon's red robes swept the shiny tile in front of her eyes and the almost irresistible urge to reach out and touch them struck her. She made her hands into fists and then rose, meeting her future husband's eyes.

"My people will take care of all the wedding details. They will fit you for a dress, make it, do your hair and everything else necessary. One week before the wedding, you will take up residence in the palace so that you can learn and then rehearse the ceremony. Our wedding day will be the summer solstice."

"Yes, my lord."

"Now, I need to speak with your parents, Ilah. That is your name, isn't it?"

"Yes, my lord."

He swept regally out of the sitting room, seeming to carry Ilah's parents in his wake. The young woman breathed a loud sigh of relief and turned to her sisters, astounded to see both envy and tears in their eyes. Ilah felt immediately guilty for having been selected by Azulon. She wondered if her eyes would show the same emotions if she_ hadn't_ been chosen.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out. "I didn't do anything. He just chose me."

"But we're both prettier than you are. You must have done something, Ilah."

"N, no, I didn't. I didn't do anything." She was angry now but kept her emotions in check. Anger had no place inside the future wife of the Fire Lord.

The sisters muttered and moaned and glared at Ilah for the rest of the day.

That was the beginning of her isolation from her family.

* * *

There were servants everywhere. They brushed out her uncooperative brown hair, applied her makeup, wrapped her full breasts tightly in bindings, and dressed her in layer after layer of elaborate and exquisite silks. Ilah hardly recognized herself in the full length mirror. She was soon to be Fire Lady Ilah, the most important woman in the entire nation. Perhaps she would crumble under the weight. Perhaps she would die from boredom. What if she could not produce an heir? Would she be cast out or suffer the humiliation of her husband bedding other women? What if she did produce an heir? What kind of mother would she be? Would the child really even be hers?

There was no one to talk to, no one to confide her worries and doubts in. She was alone, surrounded by people, but very much on her own. Certainly her rooms, rooms that would remain hers even after she and Azulon were wed, were luxurious and every possible comfort was available to her. Servants were at her beck and call. They bowed to her and did whatever she asked of them. Yet, Ilah felt empty, despite her training and the expectations that had been put on her from birth. Her husband to be had not taken the time to speak with her. He hadn't taken a meal with her or made any attempt to know her better. Ilah was marrying a stranger.

"It's time." A servant was at the door with a message from one of the Fire Sages.

Ilah stepped out into the corridor and walked the long walk to the plaza. Servants trailed behind her and a Fire Sage met her as she neared the ceremonial stage. Ilah looked out at all the people, more strangers, and gulped. She smoothed down her robes and stepped out into full view, taking her position beside Azulon.

He hardly looked at her, only taking her hand when it was required and saying the words of commitment without any feeling. As they turned to face the guests, Ilah looked for her family. She couldn't see them anywhere.

* * *

That night, Azulon requested her presence in his bed, claimed her as his own, taking her innocence with vigor but a detachment that left Ilah in tears.

"Go back to your rooms." The Fire Lord turned onto his side and pulled the sheet up over his shoulders.

Ilah put on her robe and crept back down the hallway, hugging the wall, not wanting to be seen by anyone.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: This little story continues on from the last one about Ilah. The next one will tell the story of Iroh's birth.

**Secrets of the Royal Family**

**Empty Days**

Azulon spent nearly all of his time either in the War Room strategizing with his advisors and generals or in his office signing document after document. Ilah saw her husband infrequently. If a servant knocked on her door in the evening, she knew that he desired her in his bed, and that wasn't as often as one would expect from a healthy male. And the coupling was quick, perfunctory, like a task that needed doing. _Her_ satisfaction was _not_ the Fire Lord's concern.

She played hostess at the occasional function, be it a lunch or a dinner for some dignitary or other and his wife. The day before, another servant would come to her with a scroll. On the paper would be information about their guests. Ilah was to learn the information so that she could perform her duties properly and not embarrass Azulon or the royal house in general. She studied every fact carefully, wanting to do her job well, to impress her husband perhaps, to maybe earn a smile or a glance. Ilah craved _some _acknowledgment that she existed as more than a broodmare.

But those dinners never turned out the way she hoped that they would. She and Azulon were husband and wife in name. They stood beside each other and bowed to the visiting couple when they arrived and when they left. Besides that, though, there was no contact between them. The talk at the table was all business and Ilah along with the other woman were left to nod occasionally or stare down at their soup bowls. She wondered if the other wife felt the same as she did or led the same kind of dull, unfulfilling life. Was her husband kinder to her? Did they have dinners and walks together or snuggle up in bed after making love?

That was silly, fanciful, romantic stories and poems speaking, the ones she snuck off to read in the library. How else was she supposed to spend her days? There were only so many walks she could take in the garden. There were only so many times she could pop into the kitchen and check the menu for the day and there were only so many times she could brush her hair.

None of that happened in real life, did it? Romance and love didn't really exist, did they? People existed to make more people, to perform a function, move through life like simple machines, not letting stupid emotion get in the way. All anyone wanted was power and standing. Her husband and her nation were perfect examples of that. Ilah needed to come to terms with her marriage, such as it was, and perhaps carve out some sort of life for herself. She wasn't sure how to do that.

* * *

The Fire Lord's wife was startled one morning when her husband joined her for breakfast. The surprise was evident on her face.

"You can close your mouth anytime. That expression is unbecoming."

Ilah snapped her mouth shut quickly and looked down at her perfectly manicured hands. "How are you this morning, husband?"

"I didn't come here to make small talk." Azulon elegantly picked up a few grains of rice with his chopsticks and ate. "We wed just over a year ago and you are still not with child. There might be something wrong with you."

The first thought that entered her mind was, 'Maybe there's something wrong with _you_.' But it wouldn't do to say that aloud.

"Sometimes it takes quite awhile, or s, so I've heard. I'm sorry if I've disappointed you, my lord." Ilah looked down again. She could feel the heat in her cheeks. One hand nervously fiddled with her thick brown hair.

"Hmmm, the Royal Physician will examine you today. I want you to stay in your rooms until he comes. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my lord. But, what if he finds something, something wrong I mean?"

"I'll have to make a decision then, won't I? It's about time I had an heir. If you can't provide one, I'm sure that there's someone who can…..perhaps one of your sisters." He gave her a little smirk. The remark was needlessly cruel and it stung Ilah every bit as hard as a slap to the face would.

Azulon finished the remainder of his meal in silence, then stood up abruptly and glided regally out of the dining room, long red robes flowing all around him.

* * *

When the physician declared her fit and healthy, Ilah wasn't sure whether to be happy or disappointed. Now the pressure to become pregnant soon would be overwhelming. And she had no control over when Azulon decided to bed her. Shouldn't they be trying more often? She was afraid to ask the doctor and she certainly couldn't ask her husband.

Had the physician found something wrong, Azulon might have sent her home in disgrace, but at least she would be free of the trap she found herself in. At least…..she wasn't sure, but the thought was appealing.

But, her fate was in the hands of others, as it had always been.

* * *

Four months later Ilah became pregnant and everything changed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Secrets of the Royal Family**

_**Secret Joy – Part 3 of Ilah's Story**_

Once Azulon learned of Ilah's pregnancy, he treated her differently. There was still no affection or concern for her emotional well being. But he did _think _about his wife. The Fire Lord kept tabs on her, had people watch what she ate and how much she slept and how much she exercised. This child, the heir to the throne, was extremely important and she was the vessel that carried it, nothing more and nothing less. It was expected to be a boy. Surely Agni wouldn't curse the Fire Lord with a first born daughter. _She _would be a disappointment, not for Ilah, but for everyone else. Ilah didn't pray for a son; she prayed for a healthy child.

Occasionally, Azulon even deigned to 'visit' Ilah in her rooms. The first time he did so, she was shocked.

"Close your mouth. You look like an idiot." Azulon's words were harsh and humorless. "Every room in this palace is mine. Don't you ever forget that!"

Anger flared inside the woman but she smothered it expertly. He was wrong. These rooms were hers. She grabbed onto the plain silk sheets possessively, and looked about her small domain. It was somewhere she could be alone without intrusion on her thoughts, somewhere she could try to recall who exactly she was, who she had been and who she might want to be in the future. Of course, she was alone wherever she went, but there was a peace in her rooms that was missing elsewhere. Azulon, through the simple act of stepping over the threshold, had destroyed that peace.

He questioned her about her health, peered into her pretty brown eyes as though he might discover something, and roughly pulled up her robes, running warm hands over her swiftly growing abdomen. It wasn't a loving tough, merely clinical, much like that of the physician's. It was all Ilah could do not to flinch.

* * *

"You're doing well, Ilah," he declared one day in her sixth month of pregnancy. "I can feel the child moving inside you. He's strong."

'He's _mine_,' she thought, her words becoming a powerful mantra. 'He's _mine_.'

She said nothing, merely nodded and bowed her head. After those terrible first months of marriage, months she spent wanting her husband to acknowledge her existence, she now simply wanted him to go. She and her child, unborn though he might be, were developing a bond, and Ilah treasured every kick, every flutter and every response to her soft voice. The baby was hers and no one would take it away from her.

* * *

"Your time is drawing near, Ilah." Azulon stood perfectly straight and perfectly still, his stiff back facing her, and looked out the window at the summer sky. It was a blue that only nature could produce, breathtaking, the kind of beautiful that made you feel good simply to witness it. "It's time I told you exactly how things will be."

"What do you mean?" she asked a bit harshly, a trace of rebellion in her voice. She wished immediately that she could take back her words and begin again.

Azulon whipped around to face her, his handsome features dark and twisted with anger. He stalked across the floor, his feet finally resting on top of the gold dragon's head that decorated the carpet in front of the chair where she sat. "I am your lord; your voice must always hold the utmost respect."

"I'm sorry, my lord." Her voice quavered on the first word but then grew stronger. Ilah was growing tired of being afraid.

He waved dismissively and then continued. "Now, I have found a wet nurse to feed the child and another woman who comes highly recommended will look after him. You will recover your strength and then produce a second child." He spoke in a matter of fact tone, completely unaware of the devastation his words had produced.

Something broke inside Ilah. She began to cry and then desperately attempted to cover up her tears.

"Oh, come on," Azulon sneered. "Surely you knew that's what would happen. You're of noble birth. You're not a common peasant giving birth in the dirt and then letting the baby hang off of you like a leach. You have other women to perform those tasks. Consider yourself lucky. Besides that, the boy will be heir to the Fire Nation throne. He needs to be tough and strong, not a momma's boy."

"No," Ilah stated flatly.

Azulon was stunned. He narrowed his gold eyes and jutted out his chin. "_What_ did you just say?"

"No." Her voice was firmer now. She had made up her mind. No one would take this child from her. She was his mother and that should damn well count for something.

The Fire Lord raised his hand and moved to strike her; he stopped a hair's breadth away from her face. Ilah never even flinched. Suddenly it didn't matter any longer. She only wanted to have a part in her child's life. And she would fight as hard as she could to get it.

"You dare to question your lord and your husband? I didn't think the little rabbit-mouse had it in her." He smiled, all his teeth showing and it was frightening, not warm in any way.

"I am his mother. He is my child. I have a right to look after him, play a part in his life. Surely that is not too much to ask? What else do I have after all; certainly not the affection of my husband and lord."

"Well, well, I'm almost impressed. You have a spine after all. I hope that my son inherits some of that."

He thought for a few minutes and Ilah waited, her eyes trained on her husband rather than the floor.

"Fine; you may nurse the child for one year and not a day longer. You will be in charge of taking care of him, but you will have help. And once he turns five, it's my turn. He will begin his training then and _that_ you will have no say in. Understood?"

"Yes, thank you, my lord." Ilah fought to contain her excitement. Once Azulon left, she let out a soft whoop and caressed her belly. "I can't wait to meet you," she whispered.

* * *

There was pain and then there was childbirth. Ilah's labour dragged on for more than a day. She was exhausted, miserable and her tongue was as sharp as any knife found in the palace kitchens or carried by any of the guards. The whole experience was strangely freeing. Ilah said what was on her mind, cursed and shouted and no one cared. Her behavior was ignored and dismissed.

When the child finally ended his difficult and long journey out of her warm womb and into the cold world, he let out a strong almost proud cry. It was as if he recognized that the experience he had been through was a trying one and that he had come through it very well.

Ilah wept, the pain all but forgotten. When the midwife handed her the little boy, she felt real love for the first time. He was strong looking like her, with amber eyes rather than pure gold ones. It was as if nature had mixed a bit of her brown with the royal gold and produced something lovely. His cheeks were chubby and a dusting of brown hair covered his skull.

Azulon was pleased to have a son, ecstatic actually and he picked up the boy, examining him closely as if for defects. "You've done well, Ilah," he said, repeating his words of a few months earlier. "You may choose his name."

As she brought the boy to her breast, she whispered, "Your name is Iroh and I love you."


	6. Chapter 6

**Secrets of the Royal Family**

_**Mother: Part 4 of Ilah's Story**_

According to the briskly efficient woman who assisted Ilah, her son, little Iroh, was a dream to look after, the calmest, easiest infant she had ever dealt with. The woman would openly stare at Ilah sometimes, as if wondering why in the world the Fire Lady would choose to change diapers, nurse and generally nurture her newborn. Ilah stared right back, daring her to say anything, anything at all.

The woman, her name was Akia, would look away first and mention something about burping Iroh after nursing him or putting a soothing salve on the tiny bottom so he wouldn't get a nasty rash. Ilah appreciated the woman's knowledge and listened attentively to all that she said. But, though it was a little scary, the new mother loved spending time alone with Iroh.

When she fed him, Iroh would curl his fists up and concentrate so hard that he had a little furrow on his brow. And when Ilah spoke, he listened, turned his head to her voice, happy to hear his mother. Nursing was a special time and Ilah was so glad that she had decided to do it. She could literally feel her bond with Iroh strengthening each time he latched on to her still tender breasts.

For the first few weeks, she stuck to the nursery, even taking her meals there, moving her books from _her_ quarters to Iroh's, only leaving for sleep and to bathe. Akia took over then and for that Ilah was also grateful. Azulon was, of course, no help at all. Fire Lords took no interest in their children it seemed. They were heirs first, someone to continue the blood line, valued for their bending and their ability to lead, not for anything else. Their humanity, their individuality, the sheer beauty of them was all neglected, deemed worthless. It horrified Ilah and she already feared for Iroh's future. What would become of her little treasure, the infant son she already loved so powerfully, the baby who took her breath away?

* * *

He left her alone for the most part, though Azulon did come into the nursery once every day to give his heir a quick inspection, much as he would troops sent off to fight in the interminable war that the Fire Nation was involved in.

"He looks fine," the Fire Lord said a few weeks after Iroh's birth.. "He's gotten much bigger already."

"Our son has a healthy appetite," Ilah replied with a proud, loving smile. Her breasts ached at the thought of Iroh feeding. "He's a beautiful boy." She glanced at Azulon's impassive face and then back down at her baby. "Would you like to hold our son? I'm sure that he would love to get to know his father." It was a daring thing to say and Ilah felt that chill of fear that she often experienced around her husband.

"No, I would_ not_, and I would appreciate you not asking me again. You practically begged me to let you look after him. Do not try to appeal to fatherly instinct or any other such sentimentalism. Don't make me regret my decision. I can have him taken away from you at any time. Remember that and remember that when he is five, you will relinquish him to me and his teachers."

Five years; it seemed so far away. But Ilah knew that the time would pass quickly. She felt a chill envelop her heart and lay a protective hand on Iroh's belly.

"I haven't forgotten. But surely, I'll still be able to spend some time with him, perhaps observe some of his training or take meals with him. He'll miss me and I'll miss him."

Azulon snorted and gave his wife a cruel sort of smirk. "Once he's involved in what he was born to do, you'll be a forgotten relic of his past, simply someone who provided milk, cleaned his dirty bottom and put him to bed. You gave birth to him; that is the most important function that you will ever perform. The rest anyone could do."

"You really are a bastard," Ilah declared. She looked her husband directly in the eyes and gave no thought to the consequences of her statement.

He had _almost _slapped her once before. This time he followed through, raising his hand and then bringing it full force down on Ilah's cheek. The stark red of his handprint stood out against the paleness of Ilah's skin and the pain was immediate and intense. She fought back the tears that pooled in her eyes and bit hard on her lower lip. Instinctively, she moved to stand between Azulon and the baby.

"If you ever hurt _him_, I'll kill you," she threatened. Her voice was cold and hard like the ice of the northern tundra, the voice of a mother protecting her child.

It was the Fire Lord's turn to look into his wife's eyes. What he saw in her brown orbs gave him pause for thought. He _almost_ believed her words and vowed silently to himself to keep watch.

* * *

A/N: I plan on writing one more part with Ilah…her 5 years with Iroh and letting go.


	7. Chapter 7

**Secrets of the Royal Family**

_**Something Gained and Something Lost: Part 5 of Ilah's Story**_

Weeks and months passed, time that Ilah cherished, time in which she watched Iroh grow from an infant into a curious and loving toddler. Her time and effort and love had all paid off. Iroh was a joy to be around, the only light in her otherwise lonely, loveless existence. He was Ilah's constant companion, walking with her in the garden, playing at her feet while she read and taking all his meals with her. They napped together in the afternoon, cuddling on Ilah's big bed, both exhausted from long hours of work and play.

Ilah worried sometimes that she might be smothering him, Azulon's words about the child becoming a 'Momma's boy' rearing up and hitting her head on sometimes. But leaving him with servants or a nanny when she was perfectly capable of looking after him herself and had nothing more pressing to do, was, quite simply, ridiculous. Besides, once he turned five years old, Iroh would be wrenched from her grasp and molded into the perfect prince, the boy who would one day be Fire Lord. The thought made her tremble with anxiety and fear. She worried for her boy and nightmares about him becoming exactly like Azulon began to plague her.

Ilah wished that she had someone to talk with, another woman, another mother who might understand. She had no friends and her two sisters were married now themselves, ensconced within their own loveless marriages, too busy doing a whole lot of nothing to even write. Ilah had long ago given up on them. Besides, she had never really liked them much. They were different from her, happy to be nobles and quite content to worry only about social standing and the latest hairstyle. Even as a child, Ilah had always been softer, more emotional, a girl who craved affection and thought about more than just dinner parties and dances.

It was six months after Iroh's first birthday when she encountered a new servant, a woman who quickly became Ilah's first and only true friend.

* * *

Ilah and Iroh were both breathless and laughing as they entered the nursery. The young mother had been chasing the toddler down the hallway, pretending to be a big, bad monster who wanted nothing more than to scoop him up and hug him tight. Iroh had run as quickly as his short, chubby legs could carry him, hanging onto the bottom seams of expensive drapes or the edges of tapestries for balance and looking back at his mother with a toothy grin.

"Gotcha," the Fire Lady exclaimed as she knelt down on the carpet and peppered the little boy with kisses.

"Gotcha," Iroh repeated and wrapped short arms as far around Ilah's neck as he could reach.

A high pitched shriek escaped the Fire Lady's mouth when she stood up and came face to face with a young woman, baby about eight months old strapped to her back and a bucket of cleaning supplies in her hand.

"Oh, my," the servant exclaimed. "I apologize, my lady, for startling you. I was told to clean the nursery while you were out."

Ilah took a moment to calm down and then smiled brightly at the woman. "That's all right. I've never seen you before. Are you new?"

"Yes, my lady. My sister, Katami, works in the kitchen and she asked if there was a spot for me on the staff. I'm very lucky to get this job. And my name is Misa."

"Katami, Katami," Ilah mused. "Of course, she's the one who always sneaks my Iroh an extra cookie."

"That sounds like my sister. She loves children but doesn't have any of her own. Anyway, my lady, I should be going. I have a lot more cleaning to do." The servant was shifting from one foot to the other and looked eager to go. It was strange having a conversation with the Fire Lord's wife and mother of the heir. She wondered why Ilah would even bother. This noblewoman was strange. From Misa's brief experience, even the_ other_ servants were haughtier than the Fire Lady was.

"Yes, certainly; may I ask, though, if that is your child? She's beautiful." Ilah cooed at the baby girl but resisted the urge to stroke her tiny head.

"Yes, her name is Shiori and she's almost nine months old. I need this job so that I can support her and I can't afford to pay someone else to watch her. Besides, she's still nursing and….." Misa was blushing now, thinking that perhaps she had said too much.

"Please, don't stop; it's so wonderful to talk with someone else. I'm far lonelier than perhaps you think." Ilah's soft brown eyes were pleading now.

Misa was flabbergasted. Surely the Fire Lady couldn't be lonely. She shook her head then and rethought things. The Fire Lady was simply a woman, a woman married to the notoriously cruel Fire Lord Azulon. Perhaps her loneliness made more sense than she had originally believed. But wouldn't she have friends or family to ease her solitude? Or was the adorable little prince her only company? Misa felt a twinge of pity. _She_ was poor and struggling but she had her sister and friends to laugh with and help her out. "Um, well, the father left us," she finally continued. "And I need to make money. So here I am, carrying Shiori around and cleaning."

"That must be exhausting. I'm going to order us some tea and you're going to sit down on that sofa over there and drink it with me. There's plenty of time for cleaning and what you don't finish today, you can finish tomorrow." Ilah was smiling now and gestured over to the well padded and comfortable looking piece of furniture.

Misa was tired and tea sounded wonderful yet the whole situation was bizarre. "But, I'm, I'm a servant and you're the Fire Lady. We don't have tea together."

"And who said that exactly?" Ilah asked. "We're both young mothers. We should have something in common and you need a break. I'll have sandwiches sent too." She gently pushed Misa toward the sofa and took Iroh by the hand. "Iroh, let's get your toys out of the box."

Excitedly, the little prince opened the lid, almost letting it drop on his fingers, before pulling out stuffed toys and blocks. He padded over to Misa and handed her a stuffed koala sheep, indicating the baby with a nod of his head. "For baby," he declared and ran back to the toy chest.

"Thank you," Misa called and handed the toy to little Shiori.

The odd pairing enjoyed their tea and sandwiches while the children played on the carpet, Iroh very gentle with the baby girl. After some initial awkwardness, their conversation became freer and each forgot the station that the other held. Ilah had a wonderful time and craved more.

"Maybe we could do this another time?" she broached hesitantly.

"That would be most enjoyable, my lady," Misa replied.

For three months, Misa and Ilah had tea together at least three times a week. The Fire Lady felt lighter and happier than she had in forever really. She had her son and she had a friend, someone who understood the worries of motherhood and loved her daughter as much as Ilah loved her son. She should have known it wouldn't last. She should have known that Azulon would ruin everything.

* * *

A servant knocked on the door to her suite of rooms and bowed before speaking. "The Fire Lord would like to see you, my lady. He's waiting in his office."

"Thank you," Ilah answered. A meeting with Azulon must mean something bad. It always did. "Oh, Iroh, your father wants to see me." She straightened his little tunic and pants and adjusted his topknot. "We had better go." She held out her hand and Iroh took it.

Once inside Azulon's office, he clung to Ilah's long, flowing dress robes, hiding behind them as best he could.

"It's all right, Iroh." Ilah stroked his head soothingly. She looked at Azulon then, setting her jaw and meeting his cold eyes. "You wanted to see me."

"What were you thinking, playing at friends with a mere servant?" He stared at her and shook his head as if she was a disobedient child and he was the disappointed father.

Ilah was caught flatfooted. She had done her best to keep the friendship quiet and secret. But, she supposed, that was impossible in a palace full of gossips and sycophants, all looking for a way up the ladder. "I, I, simply got tea for the poor woman; she was tired and caring for a baby. I was trying to be kind."

Azulon sneered and then snorted. "Well, your 'kindness' got the woman fired. You won't be fraternizing with her again or with any other servant. Do you understand that, Ilah?"

She wondered exactly how many young servant girls_ he_ had 'fraternized' with over his lifetime and she grew angry, then even angrier. "Misa was someone I could talk to. Why did you have to take that away from me? Why are you so despicable? Did your mother not love you?"

Ilah expected a slap or worse but the Fire Lord simply smirked. "Iroh's almost two, isn't he? It won't be long now." He gave her a dismissive wave and went back to writing his letter.

Once out in the corridor, Ilah wiped bitter tears away from her eyes. She kneeled down in front of her son and pulled him close. "It's just you and me again, Iroh," she whispered mournfully.

"It's okay, Mommy," Iroh replied. He put a warm, slightly sticky hand on her cheek and smiled.

Ilah returned his smile. "I hope so," she said, more to herself than to her son.

* * *

A/N: This part took on a life of its own. I was supposed to be writing about Iroh turning 5 and Ilah having to separate from him. Then I thought; what if she made a friend and then lost said friend. Oh, she's going to have _so_ much resentment built up against Azulon. Next time I'll deal with the separation unless I get sidetracked again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Secrets of the Royal Family**

**Separation Anxiety: Part 6 of Ilah's Story**

"Like this, Iroh. Watch me." Ilah dipped the brush in the black ink and made the first character of her son's name. "Now you try."

At almost five, Iroh was curious and loving, warm hearted but with a core of strength that sometimes surprised his mother. He would make an excellent Fire Lord, of that she was already certain and when she looked deep into her boy's whiskey coloured eyes, her heart swelled with both pride and hope. Perhaps with Iroh, the endless years of battle and carnage would end. That thought would have to keep her going in the lonely years to come. Soon, once he turned five, Ilah would have to relinquish care of the boy and give it up to his father, Fire Lord Azulon. She had agreed to the terms herself and was almost resigned to the upcoming separation, but resignation did not lessen the pain.

Iroh grasped the brush and made a valiant attempt at the character, almost getting it right. Ilah chuckled and pulled the little boy into a tight hug. "That's very good, Iroh. Pretty soon you'll be able to write your whole name."

His little chest seemed to puff out with pride and he picked up the brush, trying again. "What about this, Mommy?"

"That's even better. Why don't you paint a picture now? I know you enjoy that." The young mother gave her son's topknot a gentle tug and then gave him a wink.

Iroh giggled and began to splash ink across the paper. She tried to encourage the boy to have fun and do things that he liked. Soon enough he would be thrust into the world of politics and war. Soon enough his youth and innocence would be stolen from him.

"You look sad, Mommy." The little boy stood, brush dripping paint onto the carpet, and stared at his mother. He looked confused and worried and wanted very much to make the most important person in his whole world feel better.

"Hmm, I suppose that I am, Iroh. Things are going to change soon." She took the brush from his hand and put it back on the table. "I won't be able to see you as much and that breaks my heart. You are the best little boy a mother could ever ask for and I love you. You'll remember that, won't you?"

He looked pensive for a moment and then nodded his head, a very serious expression on his face. "I remember."

Ilah hoped with everything in her that Iroh would.

* * *

"Let go of him, Ilah." Azulon stood, inches taller, staring down at his wife as she clung ferociously to Iroh. "Show some dignity, for Agni's sake or do I need to call the guards? You knew this day was coming, woman."

Ilah had sworn that she wouldn't get emotional or desperate. It couldn't be good for Iroh to witness a scene like this. But now that the moment was upon her, Ilah could not just hand him over like a piece of unimportant baggage. She wanted Iroh to see her fight for him. She wanted to make sure that he knew, without any doubt, that his mother loved him and cherished him and _wanted _him.

"I don't understand; why must it be like this? Why can't I still see my son? He's mine, damn it. You did nothing but sire him. And what are you going to do now; hand him over to a bunch of tutors who don't care what happens to him or how he feels?"

"I am going to make him into the next Fire Lord. Now, hand the boy over or it will not go well for you. I can always find another wife, you know. There are plenty of women like you out there. It won't be hard."

There was a definite threat in those words. Ilah heard it and Iroh did too. The boy was crying now, salty tears streaming down his face, leaving distinct trails. He wiped at his nose and hung on to his mother.

"I'm scared," he whispered in her ear.

Azulon was tapping his foot impatiently, and his mouth was twisted into an ugly scowl.

"I know, sweetie; I'm scared too. But, you have to go with your father now. You're a good boy. He can't change that. Please don't let him change that."

"I don't wanna, Mommy." He wrapped his arms so tightly around Ilah's neck that she felt she might choke. He was a strong child in more ways than one.

"It's time to go." She pried his arms off and held him back a bit, looking as deep into those sweet eyes as she could. Then she pulled him close one last time, and said just above a whisper, low enough that Azulon couldn't hear, "I'll find a way to see you. I will. I love you, Iroh."

Ilah couldn't watch as her husband guided the boy roughly out of the room. She didn't see him look back over his shoulder and mouth the same words. "I'll find a way."

* * *

She was lost. There was no other word to describe the feeling of emptiness that had claimed Ilah. Her son was somewhere in the palace but she couldn't find out where, no matter how much she snooped or probed or fished for information. The servants, on orders from Azulon, no doubt, would say nothing to her.

It had been a month already. She had spent that time prowling the palace, looking for any clues as to Iroh's whereabouts. The chance of discovering something was all that kept Ilah going. It got her out of bed every morning, something that was growing more and more difficult as time passed and hope waned.

She dreamed about Iroh at night and some of those dreams were terrifying. He would be different, not _her_ Iroh, a monster like his father instead, and he would look upon her with disgust and hate. She woke sobbing and hysterical.

It was then that Azulon decided she should bear him a second child. Every night, except during her woman's time, he ordered her to his bed. Ilah wouldn't look at him. She made not a sound, no matter how rough her lord and husband got and he seemed determined to _force_ a sound out of her. It was a tiny victory for Ilah when he couldn't.

So each night, she endured the pain and indignity of the act with courage. Part of her desperately wanted another child to lavish her love upon. Part of her dreaded the thought of growing attached again only to have her new son or daughter ripped away. Nature would take its own course, though, and Ilah was glad that she herself had no control over the outcome of their couplings.

A few months later, she_ did_ get pregnant and a few months after that she lost the baby. Then it happened again and a third and fourth time, an endless cycle of life and death that left her emotionally exhausted and physically drained.

Azulon looked at her with disdain. She wasn't fulfilling her duty. She was defective and if Iroh had not already been there, Ilah was certain that her husband would have replaced her or taken a concubine. He didn't, but he no longer took her to bed either.

It was a relief to have her nights to herself again. She often left her room and went out into the gardens. They were beautiful under the moonlight and gave her the sense of peace that she so desperately wanted. It was _there_, more than a year after their separation, that Ilah first saw Iroh again.


	9. Chapter 9

**Secrets of the Royal Family**

_**Stolen Time: Part 7 of Ilah's Story**_

A/N: This installment will be the final part of Ilah's tale. It's gone on far longer than I originally intended, which is fine. But I would like to move on to something different, perhaps some bits with Ursa and Ozai.

Iroh cried for weeks, despite the fact that the man who called himself the little boy's father clearly frowned upon any expression of sadness or fear or joy. His mother wasn't there to read him stories at bedtime or to eat meals with him, chatting happily about their day. She wasn't there to exclaim proudly over his drawings or to show him how to feed the turtleducks or coax them close enough to touch.

He missed her; he missed her gentleness and her kind words. He missed her affection and he missed her love. Everything and everyone around him was cold now, so cold that he shivered despite the Fire Nation heat. He hated his new room and he hated his instructors, no matter how skilled they were. And he hated this father of his. He would not allow Iroh to see his mother or even to speak of her. It was as if she had vanished or never existed at all. No, she existed. He could still smell the soap she used and feel phantom arms around him.

* * *

Ilah gazed up at the stars. They were but one of the many things the young woman contemplated now that she had nothing but time on her hands. She wondered how long each had hung in the sky, if they would be there, the same, hundreds of years in the future. Iroh saw the same stars, of course, when_ he_ looked at the night sky. Or would Azulon even let him? Would he be so exhausted from training that he couldn't get out of bed even if he wanted to?

She recalled taking Iroh out onto the balcony some evenings just so he could watch a particularly beautiful sunset or later in the night waking him to watch a sky full of shooting stars. They had been special moments, something beautiful shared between them.

It wasn't late yet and she wondered if Iroh might still be awake. With a heavy sigh, Ilah leaned back on the bench again. What was the point in wondering that? She couldn't see him. She couldn't get to him. He may as well live on the other side of the country or the world even. That pervasive sadness grabbed hold of her again and she felt tears well up in her eyes.

There were a few lanterns lit in the gardens and guards paced the perimeter, but other than that it was dark and quiet. She could weep there and no one would be any the wiser. Ilah chuckled wryly then. No one cared anyway, whether she cried or not. What she did had no meaning and so significance and meant nothing to anyone. She was like a ghost now. A certain freedom came with that knowledge, but it was freedom she would gladly give up to hold Iroh in her arms once more.

A rustling in a nearby bush made Ilah jerk upward and she could feel her heart pounding away in her chest. "Silly," she muttered. "It must be an animal or a bird."

Taking deep breaths she calmed herself and leaned back again. When Ilah felt something soft and warm on her hand, she almost screamed.

"Mommy?"

Clapping a hand over her mouth to silence the shout of joy that was ready to emerge, Ilah stared bug eyed at her little boy. She ran a hand gently down his cheek and let her tears flow freely. "Iroh?" she whispered hopefully. "It's really you, isn't it?"

"Yeah," the six year old replied with a giggle. "It's me. I snuck out of my room 'cause I wanted to see the stars."

"Agni, oh Agni, come here." She pulled Iroh up onto her lap and hugged with all her strength. "I can't believe you're here. It's been more than a year since I saw you last. Are you all right? Did you know I was out here?"

"I'm okay. I wish I was with you. I look for you all the time, Mommy. Daddy gets mad if I talk about you."

"I look for you too, Iroh. I'm so glad that you're here. But you'll get in trouble, won't you; if someone sees that you're gone?"

The little boy shrugged. "I guess so. But they think I'm sleeping."

"Oh, Iroh," she murmured softly, running her hands through his messy hair. "I love you. Stand up so I can _really _get a good look at you."

"I can make a light, Mommy," the boy announced proudly. "Do you wanna see?"

"You can! You can firebend now? You must be so excited!"

Iroh grinned. "I train a lot. Here, look, Mommy!"

He concentrated hard and produced a tiny flickering orange flame in the palm of his hand. Ilah's eyes shone with both pride and love. "That's marvelous, sweetie. Please be careful, though. If the guards see the light, they'll tell someone or take you away from me."

The little boy extinguished it immediately. "Sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry, Mommy."

'No, no, do not be sorry. Now, tell me about your studies and your teachers and what you do every day. Let's sit on the grass over there, between those two bushes. No one will see us. It will be our hiding place."

They moved off the bench and cuddled on the ground, Iroh leaning against his mother and telling her all he could think of. He felt warmer than he had for an entire year and more content. Iroh was a firebender and he loved it, but learning his element could never take the place of his mother's love.

When he had no more to say he simply cuddled up against Ilah, relishing the softness of her body and the sweetness of her touch. "You are a very busy little boy, aren't you?" Ilah placed a light kiss on Iroh's forehead. "Will you go to school somewhere soon?"

"I dunno," the boy answered.

"Does your father not tell you anything?" Ilah was probing for information now and felt guilty. "He must have plans?"

Iroh shrugged this time. Azulon told the boy as little as possible. Iroh was simply expected to follow orders, train hard and study hard. Other than that, the boy knew little of what his future might hold. "He says I'll be Fire Lord one day."

"Yes," Ilah smiled. "And you'll be a great one, I'm sure of it."

"Is my father a good Fire Lord?" Iroh's eyes were full of curiosity but he seemed almost afraid of what his mother's reply would be.

Biting her lip, Ilah thought hard. "I think," she began, "I think that your father does what he believes is right, what he was taught is right." It was a vague reply but anything else would be an outright condemnation of the man she called husband.

"Oh," was all Iroh said. He wasn't sure what she meant, but had moved on to something else anyway.

"Iroh, honey, it's time for you to go back to your room." Much as it almost killed Ilah to say that, she was terrified that someone would discover the boy missing from his bed, send a search party out and punish him for exploring instead of sleeping. Then she would never get another chance to see Iroh. He wouldn't dare to wander from his room again.

"Aww, but Mommy, I wanna stay with you. I don't wanna go back." He was whining now and wiping at his amber coloured eyes.

"I know and I don't want you to go. But if you make it back to your room okay, maybe you can sneak out another night to see me." She was encouraging her son to do something that might end up getting him punished by Azulon, a punishment that she had no doubt would far exceed his 'crime'. But the lure of spending a bit of time with him over the months and years was too great for her to give up. "I'll sit in the garden every night and wait for awhile. If you can't make it, don't worry, but if you can, I would love to see you." Was that too much pressure to put on a six year old boy? "Don't ever put yourself in danger, okay. Remember that I love you no matter what."

"I will, Mommy. Love you." He scampered away then, into the dark, and disappeared from view.

* * *

Over the next few years, she saw Iroh a few times every month. Ilah felt privileged to witness his growth; he became taller and stronger and wiser, never losing the compassion and kindness that she had tried so very hard to teach him. One night when he was twelve, Iroh broke his mother's heart. It wasn't intentional, of course. He simply informed her that he would be attending the nation's finest military academy until he was sixteen and would then join the army. He had no say in the matter but he was excited nevertheless.

"I don't know when I can see you again, Mom."

"Don't you worry, son. Go to school, do your best and be safe." Ilah refused to cry. Her son did not need to carry any guilt on his shoulders. "I'm sure we'll meet again."

She took one long, last look at her boy. He was steady and strong of both heart and mind. Her job was finished it would seem. It was up to Iroh now to do the best he could for himself and for his nation and for the world.

* * *

Seven years later, Ilah gave birth to a second son, one her husband named Ozai. The pregnancy had been difficult and the birth even more so. Ilah was weak and exhausted and a few weeks later contracted an infection that she never recovered from.

She was holding Ozai when she died, looking into the pure gold eyes, so very different from her own.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and brushed her lips against his cheek.

* * *

Iroh made it home for his mother's funeral. He was nineteen years old and though he hadn't seen her since he was twelve, the memory of Ilah was strong in his mind and he carried her influence with him everywhere. She was the only person so far in his life that he had truly loved.

After the ceremony, he insisted on meeting his baby brother. Ozai was a beautiful infant, calm and alert, content enough it seemed to sit alone in his crib, the wet nurse and the nanny his only company.

"I'm sorry you'll never get to know our mother," Iroh said as he leaned over the crib and put a hand on the boy's belly. "I hope you'll be all right. I have to leave now, Ozai, but maybe I can visit you again soon."

The infant was silent and looked up at his brother with intense gold eyes. Iroh looked away first, losing a staring contest to a baby. The gaze had been unnerving, somehow, and he couldn't help but shudder.

"I hope you'll be all right," Iroh repeated and left.


End file.
